


red eye

by aestheticisms (R_Vienna)



Category: Ensemble Stars! (Video Game)
Genre: Living Together, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-29
Updated: 2017-09-29
Packaged: 2019-01-06 18:49:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12216783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/R_Vienna/pseuds/aestheticisms
Summary: (happy birthday rv)Koga welcomes Yuzuru home after a trip abroad, or something like that.(post-canon.)





	red eye

At this point, it’s really a test of endurance. Stubbornness. Who would crack first, who would get up off the floor and go for the doorknob, rattle it, try to get it the door to open. They've been at it for about an hour now, between catching up--

" _I took on three more kids for guitar lessons. They're whelps, I tell ya. I don't know if any single one of them is gonna sell the Saitama arena out!"_

**"Considering they're twelve, I really don't think that's a possibility, Oogami-sama."**

\--and retelling their version of the previous week (as one of them was off in London working business with fashion week mavens, and the other one was eating take-out in a poorly lit apartment while composing new music), there seemed to be no progress regarding the situation at hand. It didn't help that the Oogami-sama that accompanies his enemy's words is ironic and tingued with a past that neither of them can relate to. He's playing dirty, being unfair, and Koga will not stand for it. 

Well, if Yuzuru Fushimi honestly believes Koga was going to let him open the door, he had another thing coming. Koga was an immovable force! He was the king of this shithole apartment, and the last time Yuzuru Fushimi walked through these hallowed halls, Koga Oogami, lord of impenetrable darkness, local studio musician, guerilla gig thrower extraordinaire, yes, this man, this absolute madman threw an absolute fit. An absolute, and utterly embarrassing to remember fit. And now he’s reliving the horrible experience, sitting against the door, in his mostly empty living room. It’s furnished with a coffee table, a television, and two sofas, but even then, it was incredibly obvious to anyone who walked in, what belonged to him and what beautiful antique hardwood bullshit belonged to the man waiting outside. Even in his own apartment, Koga looked out of place, in a ratty band t-shirt from his college days and black jeans with more holes than his flimsy excuses for not opening the door. 

“I promise to not move a single object in your possession, Oogami-sama. Please. Stop being so childish.”

“Ehhhh? You’re the one who defiled this man’s pride! His sanctuary!”

Koga runs a dark hand through his wild hair, matte silver and messy. How many days has it been since he’s washed it? Jesus. Now the voice in his head is starting to sound like Yuzuru. Nagging asshole. He isn't opening this door. Yuzuru leaves for a week with little to no correspondence (not that he particularly cares, or anything) but now he comes back, surely, to chastise the resurgence of his least desirable living habits. No thank you! 

“I only cleaned up a bit, and that was two weeks ago. You’re being unreasonable.”

Unreasonable! There was no reason to clean up after him. Everything was in its perfect place, even if that place was on the floor, it was there because that’s where Koga would remember to eventually drag it to a laundry hamper or the trash bin. Ever since he got his own place, yeah, maybe he’s let himself go, he doesn’t have a parent or a roommate to yell at him from across the hallway anymore, and that’s fine, but he can manage on his own. He didn’t invite Yuzuru over to play maid, he invited him over to maybe watch a stupid fucking movie or make out after listening to The Killers’ new album. He did not want him to put on gloves and an apron and start moving around his life source—his electric guitar and amp. It was the worst date night in the history of ever. Yuzuru didn’t stop until the place was spotless and Koga was one headache away from escaping through the backdoor balcony.

The doorknob rattles. There's no more time to think. 

“Hah, I locked it with the deadbolt. Good luck trying to get—“

“You do remember you gave me a spare key, right?”

Yuzuru Fushimi smirks in the most awful way, it makes Koga jump to a foot in the air and lunge for his dress shirt collar. There's only a sigh that can be given in response to such a thing, and he quickly sidesteps, presses forward into the apartment space, finally finding a place to collect himself in front of the chipped full length mirror that decorated the end of the hallway. Yuzuru doesn’t have to walk that far, it’s such a ridiculous effort to avoid Koga's over the top and unwarranted wrath. He picks at his pressed shirt and before he can move on to lint rolling his slacks, Koga comes up behind him and wraps his arms around Yuzuru’s waist.

“You’re the damn worst, y'know.” It’s muffled into his back, and Yuzuru hums in response.  
“Yes, yes I do know that. I am well aware. You tell me whenever we kiss.”  
Koga growls into the fold of his shirt, and sinks his ringed hands into Yuzuru’s back pockets.

“Comin' in here like you own the place. Did you at least bring something from your trip?” It’s softer now, his tone mellows out. This earns Yuzuru’s favor. Koga knows he appreciates all sides of him but there’s something that Koga likes about inciting that particular expression. Yuzuru nods, but doesn’t turn around to retrieve his blazer, or his leather bag, both left by the door frame, casualties in the previous cold war. Instead, he leans back, and rests his head on Koga’s shoulder. Koga's vision floods with dark blue hair, and that's enough to make him sigh, something almost peaceful 

"I got you a treat.”  
“Ugh, never mind. Forget I asked.”

No one wins their arguments, but, that’s fine. They stay like that for a while, they sway in time to something playing on the television, left on and unattended, static white noise over a recorded set.

“Was it a long flight?”  
“Yes, and it was rather tiring. It did not help I had to deal with a rambunctious dog upon my arrival.”

It’s such a terrible quip, but Koga doesn’t acknowledge it except for a roll of eyes.

“You’re really asking to sleep on the couch, Fushimi.”  
“As if you wouldn't come running right after me. You’re being awfully honest tonight.”

A click of tongue, and then, untangling of bodies. They’re detached, at arm’s length, Yuzuru turns to face Koga and when he’s about to put a hand on his cheek, he stops himself.

“When was the last time you showered. This shirt looks like you've worn it for at least half the week.”

“ _Ugh_. You always know how to ruin the damn moment.”

And Yuzuru blesses Koga Oogami’s monochrome existence with a beautiful smile. It's something that shines, it radiates the warmth and bliss that Koga really absolutely hates about him, god, he'll melt if he stands here--he'll melt all over his patent leather shoes. Yuzuru rolls his sleeves up, his leather wrist watch glints underneath the fluorescent lights, and Koga lets his hands wander, until their fingers are intertwined, prim and proper and absolutely abysmal, similar only with a set of polished nails, black and clear. This was who they were. Without the bickering or side eye remarks, masked with a pleasant smile, yes, Koga gets all forms of Yuzuru Fushimi, all bark and all bite. 

“I’m home, Koga.”

Sometimes, he gets more than he bargains for. 

“Welcome back. Asshole. Don’t be gone so long, next time.”

Koga grins back, teeth bared, with the intensity of a rising sun. 


End file.
